


Russia Sweet Russia

by iijustoii



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anxiety, Comfort/Angst, Depression, Domestic Fluff, Domestic af, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Post Season 1, Relationship Struggles, Yuri on Ice - Freeform, katsuki yuuri - Freeform, smut MAYBE, training in Russia, victor nikiforov - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-01-06 03:39:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18380204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iijustoii/pseuds/iijustoii
Summary: After the Grand Prix, Yuuri moves to Russia to train with Victor. Basically they learn to live together and struggle with skating, comfort, and more.





	1. Settling In

**Author's Note:**

> (This is my first work I've put out on the internet and I'm kinda scared because I write a lot but never show it, but I felt like I should put out what I have spent a lot of time on and see if it can help me grow as a writer and maybe work through whatever is weighing on me.) 
> 
> Please enjoy! :)

“Victor!” 

Yuuri ran up to Victor and Yurio, who both waited for him in the biting cold. 

“So, ready for practice?” Victor asked, throwing a little of that flirtatious flair and feigned puzzlement with the tip of his index finger to his chin, a signature move of his.   


“Yep!” Yuuri exclaimed, mostly because he hasn’t seen his beloved in weeks since the Grand Prix Final, but highly suspecting that he would be much less enthusiastic by the end of the day.

“Okay, let’s get going,” Victor spoke, ushering the two Yuris into the rink. 

“Finally,” Yurio said in his pointed manner. “I was freezing my ass off there waiting for your sorry ass.” While Yurio’s words came off as harsh, Yuuri learned that it was just his way of saying that he missed him, and the over excessive use of the word “ass” told Yuuri that he was in some semblance of a good mood. 

They walked into the grand complex, as Victor exchanged words with a Russian man sitting behind the desk. Victor grabbed Yuuri and introduced them, showing off his new fiance to the odd man behind the counter, who warmly received a firm handshake. They exchanged words in Russian, with Yurio yelling something back in Russian, his face furiously red and Victor’s a shade pinker, something that Yuuri had never seen in either of them. Victor promptly whisked Yuuri away through the locker rooms. The building was created out of curved metal and glass that seperated their thin pond of ice to the large field of snow outside. Yuuri’s anxiety was starting to setting in, ironically with the size of the large building closing in on him faster than any tight space. 

“Yuuri, are you okay?” Victor asked, a little drop in his voice as he putting a hand on Yuuri’s shoulder.

“Yah, it’s just a lot to take in.”

Yurio heard from behind him and seemingly brushed it off, while having flashbacks of Yuuri’s rink with the high windows and cement prison feel. 

“That’s cool, we’re just show off today. Tomorrow, we’ll practice.”

“Ok,” Yuuri said, a little disheartened but also somewhat grateful. 

Victor twittered like a bird, shaking hands and chatting in Russian to people Yuuri had no clue how to even pronounce their name, much less know. Most importantly, Victor made it his job to show Yuuri off to everyone he meet. Yuuri learned that he got a lot of mixed feelings. One of Yakov’s proteges, Mila, warmly received Yuuri, while Georgi, another of the proteges, gave off gruff, curt feeling towards Yuuri. Yuuri suspected that Georgi’s cold behavior was caused by Victor running away to Japan and abandoning Yakov for him. Yuuri made a mental list of things to do. On the top of that list was learn Russian.

They ran by one of Yakov’s practice, which was met with a lot of yelling between the two, Yakov’s an octave lower due to his frustration, Victor’s an octave higher to meet his teasing. Yuuri waved and then was yanked away by a guilty Victor. Yurio was swept away to practice when he was caught with them, and bid them farewell as he slumped across the building. 

After about an hour, they ended back at the locker rooms. 

“So, what do you want to do now?” Victor asked, the happiness brimming over in his smile.

“I don’t know. Why don’t we skate for a little bit?”

“Sounds good,” he said, grabbing his golden skates out of his bag, which Yuuri knew he packed on purpose. Yuuri grabbed his skates and stitched the laces together, and they both went out into a public rink, watching the people mill around. Some of the skaters watched intently as the Russian superstar brought out his Japanese love onto the rink, hand in hand . 

It was somewhat awkward as they both pushed off each other, the clammy heat between them was slightly uncomfortable, but they were both having fun skating not for a competition, but for fun. The people who knew who they were were somewhat in awe that they could skate so like normal people while some poor ones were still trying to figure how they were so good at skating. They continued to skate with their hands together, not speaking but occupied with their own happy thoughts and the sensation of blades cutting across ice. 

Yakov stepped away from his practice to see where Victor had taken him, and when he saw them skating, he realized he had never seen this sight in Victor’s eyes. The nature of both of their bodies was something that couldn’t be replicated on the stage, and he smiled to himself, reminded of a time when he felt like that. Victor, despite being one of his most difficult and unresponsive students, deserved this. To feel this way. 

“Why are you smiling like that?” Georgi asked critically, as he watch his mentor when Victor and Yuuri laugh after they almost fell. 

“Victor Nikiforov is a very successful skater, but there comes a time when success doesn’t become a challenge, and then it doesn’t become a competition. Yuuri, despite the odd circumstances, brought that back for him.”

“But aren’t you mad?”

“Of course I’m mad!... But that’s not what matters…”

 

“So, what do you think?” Victor seeking some approval in his home rink.

“It’s amazing, that’s for sure.”

“I’m glad!”

They continued to talk in fast Japanese, and Victor changed quickly to Russian when a little girl skated up to them holding a pamphlet. She muttered some shy words before she held out a pen. Victor threw a sweet smile and answered her, signing his name in a flourish and then adding in Japanese, “she wants us to sign it.” He intently signed it and handed it back, forcing a smile and Victor speaking on their behalf before flying away happily. Soon, their precious time together was at an end as people, emboldened by the little girl’s courage, mobbed them for signatures. Victor yelled something out to the crowd, to which came a rise of laughter, before he added another phrase in Russian and grabbed Yuuri’s hand. “Let’s get off the ice to sign.” “Right.”

After hundreds of signatures later, they both escaped into the locker room. 

“So, what do you do for food around here?” Yuri asked, thoroughly hungry. 

“I know some places,” Victor affirmed, having plotted several places before hand. “Come on!” 

They caught a cab and ended up at a great restaurant, where Yuri indulged in something that Victor recommended and drinking a single shot of vodka and a lot of soda, hell bent on not getting hungover on his first day of practice.

“So, Yuuri,” Victor leaning an elbow on the table and bringing a hand to rest his chin, an evil grin spread across his face. “As your coach, I’m going to put you on a diet and you will live with me while you train in Russia.”

“Okay,” unsure if Yuuri should be happy to be closer to fiance Victor or worried to be closer to coach Victor. Either way, he was predicting torture of all forms in his future.

“I’m excited to start practices tomorrow. Be ready, it’s not going to be easy.”

“I would think so,” Yuuri said miserably, feeling the food in his stomach nervously disagreeing with him and pushing away the rest of his meal. 

“What’s wrong? Food too heavy?” Victor asked innocently.

“No, I’m fine.”

“Okay,” Victor a little apprehensive of his love’s response.

Apparently Victor had also made it a goal to not be hungover on his fiance’s first day of practice in Russia, as they both made it to Victor’s house relatively sober. Victor’s key chain jangled and with a simple turn, Victor and Yuuri greeted Makkachin and Yuuri looked around the tidy apartment.

There were plenty of windows and a considerable amount of open space. The house was coated in tones of blue, reminding Yuuri unconsciously of its owner’s eye color. There was a long, deep blue coach draped in various lighter, soft blankets was position in front of the large window the covered the wall to their right, with a mysterious closed door near their entrance and a few plain paintings on the far side past the kitchen. Yuuri found his suitcases under the windows to their right, with the quant living room melded into to a small, clean kitchen.

“I don’t usually host people,” Victor spoke in a strange, nervous tone.  

“It’s nice,” Yuuri comforted. 

They walked past the kitchen, which covered the wall in open shelving and splaying out various ingredients and traveled up near the ceiling, where a fixture of light bulbs kept the house illuminated. The fridge and stove looked to made out of the same steel, while the marble counter contrasted a dining top made of wood covering the island. 

“Oh no, I don’t have guest bedroom,” Victor noted sarcastically sad. “And the couch isn’t suitable to sleep on. I guess you’ll have to sleep with me,” sliding a sly grin. “It’s over here.”

“It’s cool,” Yuuri shrugged nonchalantly. 

They turned into a grand bedroom, with large bookcases filled with achievements framing a window with a squishy place to sit underneath. In front of the window was an extremely large bed, considerably larger than his. The two doors on the far side next to each other, Yuuri guessed, lead to a bathroom and a closet. Yuuri plotted a small corner of Victor’s room by setting his suitcases. 

He was unsure if he should ask a question that was pressing his mind, but he didn’t have to.

“What’s on your mind Yuuri?” Victor questioned, tilting his head like a confused Makka.

“I was just wondering… what do you do if you have guest?”

There was a flinch in Victor’s expression that Yuuri caught, but he cushioned it with, “I mean, I hope you don’t let all of your guest sleep in your bed. What do you usually do if you have people staying over?”

“Well, usually they’re only here for the night anyway so,” Victor said offhanded, Yuuri picking up on the innuendo with a blush. “But... I don’t usually have people that stay for long.”

Victor personally didn’t know why he was telling this to Yuuri, but he had suspicions that the vodka was giving him loose lips. Yuuri stopped unpacking and looked into the glazed, fake joy that Victor’s face betrayed.

“I’m not leaving you, Victor,” Yuuri stated, feeling slightly unsure why he was promising so much of himself. “You don’t have to worry about that.” Part of him, however, knew that Victor needed to hear those words. 

Yuuri’s words made Victor’s face turn soft. 

“Come here,” Yuuri said, holding up his arms. Victor quickly and tightly grabbed on to his Yuuri, who had promised to never leave him, something that almost everyone (with the exception of Yakov) had done to him. Casted him aside when his fame wore off on them.  _ God I’m too lucky _ .

“Ok, let’s get some sleep. We’ve both got big days tomorrow.”

“What time is practice tomorrow?” Yuuri asked, turning his back to hid his bare chest in embarrassment (despite the fact that Victor had seen him naked several times). He rifled through his suitcase and pulled out another shirt to replace his sweaty shirt, which was discarded into another corner of the room. 

“7:00am,” Victor answered, stripping down and sliding into his bed with only his briefs on. “That’s when the rink opens.”

“Okay,” Yuuri said, setting an alarm for 6:00am on his phone and suddenly feeling the jet lag hitting him hard. “Good night Victor,” nuzzling into his pillow and facing his back towards a reclined Victor and looking into the lighter window.

“Good night Yuuri,” he answered, feeling the somewhat awkward distance between their voices, but they both knew their distance wasn’t something out of affection. They both deeply loved each other, but there was definitely  a more profound distance, realizing that neither could get in the other’s head nor decipher out the other’s past. 

Both Yuuri and Victor wouldn’t to address it. Not yet, at least.

Yuuri’s alarm rung at the ungodly hour of 6am, when neither wanted to escape their companion’s warmth. Yuuri realized that they must have flipped over in the night, because he was spooning Victor, without his conscious objection. While Yuuri’s face turned red, despite having been physically closer with Victor before, he unconsciously worried that it was out of Victor’s inconvenience, but when Yuuri pulled away to turn off the evil blaring, Victor groaned unhappily. 

“Victor, we have to get up,” Yuuri grumbled, laying back on Victor’s bed and trying vainly to keep his eyes open. Victor threw himself on Yuuri’s warm body, and kissing his cheek sweetly, before tearing himself away to get dressed. Victor walked over to a neatly folded drawer and pulled out some underwear out, changing on the spot, and finding suitable training clothes. Yuuri pulled himself out of the bed, wiping the fatigue from his eyes and finding his glasses on the ground. Victor was already moving around his bathroom before Yuuri could pull his pants on the wrong way. 

“What? Not a morning person sweets?” Victor teased, spraying his hair with an expensive and unnecessary conditioner. 

“Not really,” Yuuri grunted, finally getting all of his clothes the right way and snatching a clear bag of various bottles from his suitcase and climbing into Victor’s uncharacteristically large bathroom, which was composed of more shades of tiled blue. Victor was going one by one and apply various skin creams and hair sprays, while Yuri washed his face in an attempt to wake up. Yuuri actually finished getting ready first, having putting on a moisturizer, some lotion, and running a comb through his hair. Makkachin was also a little sleepy, but he was whimpering helplessly and sitting patiently, wagging his tail.

“Victor, I think Makkachin is hungry,” Yuuri yelled, kneeling down to pet him. 

Victor came out of the bathroom, slightly in a huff but ready and opened a nondescript cabinet, pulling out a container of dog food and poured it into a dog bowl.  

“So, what do you do for breakfast?” Yuuri asked, starving. 

“What do you want?” Victor asked smartly, opening a fridge somehow seductively.

“What do you have?” Yuuri asked, getting up to look.

“We have eggs, butter, some tvorog, ” closing the door to look under the island, “some bread and cereal. You know, maybe no cereal.”

“Do you have any rice?” Yuuri questioned, not completely object to the choices but curious if there was something a little closer to home.

“No, but we can pick some up later.”

“No, it’s okay, I was just curious,” Yuuri said, looking around the kitchen more and noticing a large espresso machine. “How about some toast and eggs?”

“Okay!” plopping a loaf of rye bread and a carton of eggs on the counter. Yuuri sat back down and flipped through his phone, answering Victor’s various food-related questions and taking a picture of an unassumingly dazzling Victor cooking and sending it to Yuko back home. 

“Enjoy!” Victor proclaimed, laying out a plate of warmly toasted bread and scrambled eggs, which Victor confessed was the only form of egg he was good at.

“Do you want coffee?”

“That should have been your first question,” Yuuri confessed. “What do you have?”

“Whatever you want,” motioning towards the expensive espresso machine. 

“Black works for me,” Yuuri said while taking a warm bit of decently made eggs.

After concocting two cups of coffee, one black for Yuuri and a double espresso for Victor, Victor sat next to him with his plate of scrambled eggs and toast, which he took the liberty of smothering in butter. Yuuri watched him and laughed when half of it got wiped onto his face. Something in Yuuri’s laugh made him forget about the butter that coated his face, but Yuuri helped him wipe it off his face, lightly brushing his own lips with Victor’s buttery lips, and turning both of their faces beet red. Yuuri returned back to his meal and downed his coffee before he finished his food. After they both finished their food, Yuuri already set out to learn how to make his own coffee. Victor explained it, and Yuuri did so, creating another cup but leaving quiet a comically large mess in his wake.

Yuuri and Victor grabbed backpacks and ran in the cold, Victor leading the way and Yuuri following behind, ingraining the path into his mind and making it finally to the ice rink. Victor was panting heavily and Yakov took tremendous joy in cutting out disapproval. Yakov opened the door and Yuuri, Victor, Yurio, and Mila walked into the abandoned rink. Yakov flipped some switches and barked something at them. Victor, realizing that Yuuri didn’t understand what Yakov had said, explained that they needed to get ready and be out there in ten minutes. After stitching up their skates, Yuuri pulled a bottle that Victor had loaned him of hot coffee, which steamed fragrantly. 

“Psst, can I have some more?” Victor whispered, really only wanting another sip because it was Yuuri’s. 

“Sure,” he whispered back handing it over. Victor took a few bitter sips, smiled and thanked him. The two Yuris and Victor walked out and entered the rink, practicing for several hours.

* * *

By the end of the day, Yuuri and Victor were tired and hurt all over from practice, which, as Victor promised, was brutal. Yuuri ended up practicing under Yakov’s instructions, which he didn’t mind, as they were mostly what Victor had told him. They were ordered to at least figure out a theme and determine whether or not they would pick their music or have it chosen for them by next week. 

“Victor, um…”

“Yes Yuuri.”

When Yuuri didn’t answer back with an actually statement, Victor turned towards an anxious but torn Yuuri. 

“How l-long does the rink stay open?”

“About 6. Why?”

“Oh, no reason,” Yuuri lied, but then it hit Victor why Yuuri was asking. If Yuuri got nervous, he would usually run to the ice rink back in Hatsu, but he was in Russia. The only people he could knew were Victor and Yurio, the list of people who could speak English was limited, and they were training in a public facility with others, not a secluded ice rink run by life long friends. As Yuuri packed up, Victor snuck away to ask Yakov for a favor.

“You want a key? Why? And don’t tell me you want to throw a party or something.”

“Well, Yuuri-,” he started to explain, but he was promptly cut off.

“Vitya,” Yakov expressed in a fatherly fashion. “I understand that you love this kid, but how are you going to coach him and be his competition?”

“I don’t know yet, but that’s not the point right now. You know that Yuuri’s anything but collected, and back at Japan, he would go to the ice rink to calm down. If I could just have a spare key...” Victor plead. Victor pleading for something was new for Yakov, and a clear concern in his eye told him that this was important him.

“I can ask the officials, but you probably won’t get one for a day or two.”

“Spasiba,” Victor said earnestly, giving him a hug, which made Yakov freeze up.

“Victor! Where are you?”

“I’m coming, geez!” Victor yelled back exasperatedly happy, and waving bye to Yakov. 

Yakov noticed a springly glide in his step as he walked towards Yuuri, who held up his bag and they walked away, talking in Japanese. Mainly lacking the ability to understand Japanese, Yakov wondered what Victor saw in Yuuri, but he couldn’t say anything, considering who he married. 

* * *

Yuuri was sitting up late at night, Victor sleeping restfully next him while Yuuri set out to learn Russian. There were a lot less characters, excuse, letters, but the separate words were longer. Yuuri did know English, but he figured it would be good to know your finance’s first language. 

“Yuuri, what are you doing?” Victor finally asked, setting his head on his fiance’s lap and trying to blink the light into decipherable symbols. 

“Learning Russian,” he said, clicking to listen to the pronunciation of a word.

“Wow, first how to make coffee, now Russian.”

“Yah,” Yuuri laughed lightly, something that made Victor’s heart flutter. “I figured if I’m staying here for a while, I might learn a little to help me get around.”

“But you’ll have me,” Victor mentioned sadly, fearing the times when they would be apart. 

“I will, but I’d like to learn myself,” Yuuri voiced, determined but also softly, as he brushed the hair away from Victor’s forehead.

“Okay, well, I am going to sleep,” Victor announced, nuzzling his head into Yuuri’s lap and looking into his soft, chocolate brown eyes that glimmered with intention. Yuuri finally closed his computer and fell asleep wrapped in Victor’s arms.

 


	2. Undertones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo, I'm back! This week has been endlessly long, not healthy on my sleep schedule, and full of mental breakdowns but I have a little break before I start back up with exams *eww*. Anyway, here's part 2, with more development ;)

“Have you figured out your theme yet?” Victor questioned, grabbing a bowl for cereal. 

“No,” Yuuri groaned, putting his hands over his eyes and pushing up his glasses, but swiftly getting up to go the fridge. 

“I have,” Victor proclaimed triumphantly, tucking a spoonful between his smiling cheeks.

“Of course you have,” Yuuri hanging his head in defeat. “What is it?” 

There was a little dip in his embarrassment and a blush across his cheeks as he uttered, “Desperation.” 

“Okay,” Yuuri nodded, unsure where it came from.

“It’s just… I want to hold onto what we have now.” 

Yuuri closed the fridge and turned towards Victor, a blush rising from his face as he looked into his fiance’s charming eyes. The admiration in his eyes made his heart skip a beat, but the lovely silence was broken too soon. 

“That and I want to win,” Victor joked, changing from the lovestruck fiance to the sniggering competitor. 

“Wow, okay,” Yuuri said in contempt. “And I thought we were having a bonding moment.”

Victor chuckled, a little snort escaping and causes Yuuri to double over with laughter, joy filling the blue house. While they were letting their butterflies flutter, Victor knew there was more behind why he choose desperation, mainly revolving around his past, but it wasn’t the kind of talk for this early in the morning, especially when they were like this. 

* * *

After several days of particularly harsh practice, Yuuri was sitting in Victor’s house after dinner when a wave of irrational thoughts consumed him.  _ He started thinking about practices, focusing on what he could’ve done better, knowing that he could have easily landed his jumps. Yakov, in his Russian fashion, yelling something at all of them, making Yuuri feel like he was breaking some law. Victor being hard on him, something he was use to, but there was a scary chord in his voice, something that his mind had substituted for his fake affirmation. Yuuri, standing among the other top notch Russian skaters, feeling like no one wanted him there when Victor wasn’t there.  _

All of these darks thoughts chased Yuuri away to the rink, which he had forgotten, was dark. He tried to pull at the door and felt the door hold, and in defeat, plopped down on the steps, trying to collect himself, his hands and breathe shaking. The few people that walked by gave odd looks, making him feel even worse, and he finally decided to walk back, putting in some earbuds, hoping that some music would coax his nerves. Even after the long, cold walk back, his anxiety zapped his mind with static and pain. Yuuri stood just before Victor’s complex, unsure if he was ready to enter his life again. 

Yuuri didn’t want Victor to see this side of him. Of course, he knew that Victor had seen him like this, but Victor had even told him that he didn’t know what to do with people in pain. Yuuri, at that moment definitely felt in pain. 

Somehow, he dragged himself up the stairs and paused before knocking on his door, feeling his stomach drop when he saw Victor’s worried-stricken face as the door flew open.

“Yuuri! Thank God, I didn’t know where you went and-why do you have your skating stuff?”

“I’m sorry, I went for a walk,” Yuuri muttered pushing himself through the door into the safety of Victor’s house. “I’m sorry if I made you worry.”

“At least leave a note or text or something next time, I was about to call the police.”

“Sorry,” feeling worse for coming back and knowing that the hollow chasm in his chest couldn’t be hidden in his expression. 

“Yuuri,” Victor concerted, putting a gentle hand to the somber face. Yuuri recoiled, the motion of intimacy something he didn’t need to worry about. He was at one of his weakest points, when his mind was essentially attacking his soul. Victor, hurt but his hand still hovering faintly for a few seconds, realized that Yuuri’s averted eyes were hiding more pain than Yuuri himself was letting on.

“What do you need?” Victor trying to remain strong even when the love of his life looked like he was dying in front of him. 

Yuuri searched quietly but frantically for what else, beside skating, could comfort him and he finally muttered weakly that “a hug would be nice.” Victor enfolded Yuuri in a tender, warm embrace that lasted for more time than they needed. There was a tension that as they stay together, fell away. Being so close and so comforted by Victor made Yuuri feel so lucky that a single relieved tear rolled from his eye. He sniffled and pulled away, turning his face to wipe away the moisture from his eyes. Victor watched with some sort of fascination when Yuuri looked into his eyes. 

“What?” Yuuri laughed, a light gasp with a slight rasp. 

“I just don’t understand how you can be so cute,” Victor replied, still awestruck.

The same shade of blush lined the area under their eyes and Yuuri reconnected their hug. Yuuri laid his forehead on Victor’s, feeling a timid dip before resting his forehead with Yuuri’s. Yuuri felt a sense of peace, weaved through Victor’s arms and when he breathed out relief, he breathed in the scent of Victor’s cologne, his clean scent, and faint whiff of salt.

“Sorry,” Victor apologize breathlessly, “I thought you were going in for a kiss.”

“It’s fine,” Yuuri breathed, opening his eyes and meeting it with an almost pleading, ocean-colored stare.

“Oh, you mean  _ you _ wanted a kiss?” Yuuri pulling back from their distance in a teasing manner.

“Yes,” Victor laughed exasperatedly, and ever so slowly yet ever so sensuously, their lips passed over each other, a sigh escaping Victor’s enclosed lips. Victor was worried that Yuuri had run away from him, but their kiss helped him remember that Yuuri loved him and that part of him would always stay with Victor. 

Victor pulled away after what felt like hours for the two of them, but their whole encounter was only seven minutes. The only reason they stopped was because Makkachin was jealous and wanted in on the action.

“Oh, now you want a kiss Makka-chan?” Victor teased in a baby voice, sitting on the floor and spreading kisses on Makkachin’s head while he licked Victor’s face, causing him to splutter out and wiping his lips. Yuuri laughed with contentment, feeling at ease but also fatigued as he sat down on the floor and gave Makkachin some nice rubs. 

“Thank you.”

“For what?” Victor inquired, masterfully causing Makkachin to melt as he rubbed his ear.

“For making me feel better, even when I made you worry.”

“It’s all good,” Victor affirmed, catching a glance of a sweet Yuuri, and feel a small smile tug at his lips. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot shorter, a lot more saucy *wiggles eyesbrows*
> 
> Thank you for the lovely support! It means a lots <33333 
> 
> Next week is going to be sick!!!
> 
> ~ iijustoii


	3. Sniffles

“Achoo!”

Yuuri grabbed the second box of tissues and loudly blew into a tissue, missing his shot into the trash can, and getting up to threw it back in.

“Yuuri, do you want me call Yakov and tell him you’re sick?”   


“That’s very sweet of you,” Yuuri started, “but I can handle a little cold.”

“Are you sure?” Victor fretted.

It was a caring sign to Yuuri, but he couldn't seem to consoled Victor’s worries with his sureness.

“If you don’t feel good, you’ll tell me, right?”

“Yes, mom,” Yuuri joked, managing to cut off Victor’s panic.

Yuuri asked if Victor had any medicine, but apparently, Victor didn’t get sick. 

“Do you want me to go to the store and get you some medicine?”

“Yes, please,” Yuuri said, reclining down into the coach in defeat. 

“Okay,” Victor cheered, “Is there anything else you would like?”

“Maybe some rice,” he muttered embarrassed.

"Anything else?"

"No, that's good."

“Okay, I’m off then,” Yuuri heard from the doorway, but then heard the rushing of steps towards him.

“A goodbye kiss!” Victor squealed, heading lips first for Yuuri. Yuuri was quick to put a hand to his face, squeaking, “Victor, I don’t want to get you sick as well!”

“I don’t care,” Victor squeaked, before landing a kiss on Yuuri’s warm cheek and running off. 

The house was quiet with Victor. Makkachin whined forlorned, before turning to Yuuri, insistent on affection. Yuuri rubbed Makkachin while he observed the chilling nature of Victor’s empty house. 

Yuuri noticed how the open space felt too open. Maybe it was because he was use to the close quarters of the onsen, but he suspected that it had to do with the vacancy. The various shades of blue melded to one mood of somber, with the chic, expensive modern fixtures looking harsher. Yuuri was somewhat unnerved, and turned on his computer, looking through various distractions, hoping to ignore the silent looming feeling of the apartment. 

Yuuri heard the jangle of keys and the door opened, admitting a slightly frozen Victor. 

“I’m home!” he called, Makkachin attacking him with affection. Victor bent down and gave him a pat, before Yuuri could close his computer.

“Have you moved since I left?” Victor interrogated comically.

“I moved to get my computer,” Yuuri retorted humorously, laughing at his own lazy behavior. 

“I got your medicine,” Victor called, laying the bag on the counter. Yuuri got up, wiping his nose with his sleeve, and digging around in the bag and pulling out the bottles.

“Uhh, what are these?” Yuuri said, examining the bottle and only understanding the numbers on the back.

“Oh, this is something to break up all of the snot, and this should help you sleep.”

He took a bit of the first, and saw Victor working in the kitchen, setting up a pot of water to boil.

“Here, I can do it.” Immediately after, Yuuri sneezed four times continuously, leading to Victor throwing him a look and calling defeat by flopping back on the coach. 

“Guess I’m not use to the cold of Russia yet,” Yuuri said absentmindedly.

“Guess so,” Victor stated, sitting next to him as they waited for the water to boil. 

 

Victor got the water boiled, poured the rice in, and waited for the rice to cook, before pouring the hot, sticky rice into a bowl.

“I don’t have any chopsticks, but I hope this is a little taste of home.”

Victor handed the warm bowl off to Yuuri, who smelled it and was reminded of cold mornings near the heat of the hot springs. He sat there and breathed in the scent for a little, letting the heat seep into his nostrils, before he took the hot rice and let the heat seep through his stomach. 

“Does it taste good?”

“It’s perfect,” Yuuri said, turning towards him in gratitude. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” Victor said sweetly.

Yuuri finished the bowl, and asked for another, before Victor cut him off at his third bowl.   
“We don’t need you porky for practice, right?” 

“What I put in my body is none of your business,” Yuuri teased, confident in his proclamation. 

While the medicine allowed them to get out to dinner, sleeping was hard. The sleeping medicine did clear up his nose to let him fall asleep, he was woken up by a groggy Victor who told him that his alarm was still going off. He barely had enough energy to get up and get dressed, and felt like he was about to fall asleep while he was waiting for breakfast. Victor took pity and gave him a cup of coffee. 

“Remind me never to take that again,” Yuuri croaned, trying to drown his sleepiness in caffeine at the same time, speaking between unhealthily large gulps of coffee. 

“I’m sorry babe,” patting his head kindly. 

Running in the cold was harder, making his head pound, his lungs crowded, and the morning light brighter than usual. Practice made it even harder to breathe, and by the end, his chest ached. 

“What, turning old, pig?” Yurio sneered.

“Watch what happens when I sneeze on you,” Yuuri threatened, not up for Yurio today.

“Come on, Yuuri,” Victor ushering his fiance away, ignoring the comical threat Yuuri made. 

* * *

After a day or two, Yuuri’s cold was a few sniffles and a cough every hour, but it was Victor’s turn. He complained about a sore throat, thinking it was from something that he and Yuuri had done, but Yuuri patted his shoulder and told him some vitamin C. 

“What for?”

“If you don’t want to catch my cold, I would recommend some vitamin C. Helps your immune system.”

Victor rushed to the store and came back with various forms of vitamin C, from dissolvable tablets to gummies. Yuuri watched with disbelief as Victor, one after another, took the vitamin C. 

“Sweety, you’re going to get vitamin poisoning,” Yuuri instructed, taking the rest of the bottles away from Victor.

“But I don’t want to get sick,” Victor whined, turning towards Yuuri. 

“Victor, there isn’t a cure for the common cold. Besides, I survived. You can too.”

Victor frowned and Yuuri kissed two of his fingers and planted gently on his cheek. Victor’s face blossomed a hibiscus pink as Yuuri threw the rest of the vitamins into the plastic bag, rubbing his cheek in lovesick tenderness. 

Later that night, Victor started sneezing. Victor groaned after the sixth sneeze in three minutes. Yuuri handed him the tissue box, which he took in contempt. 

“Do you want me to get you anything?” Yuuri asked. 

“Anything to make this GO AWAY,” Victor complained. 

“I’ll get the sleeping medicine.”

After fifteen minutes, Victor was snoring, draped over an entirely awake Yuuri. He turned around, but Victor wrapped himself around Yuuri, the snoring still loud in his ear.  _ Just great _ . 

At some point, Yuuri got fitful sleep and awoke somehow alert at 6am. Yuuri turned the alarm off and Victor was asleep, but had moved to the far side of the bed, sheets overturned and sporting his boxers. 

“Victor?” 

Yuuri, concerned about Victor's temperature, put the back off his hand to Victor’s forehead. 

“Ugh, I feel like crap…” he groaned, turning onto his back. 

“You must! Your forehead feels like it's on fire!” Yuuri squeaked, getting up and out of bed to get medicine. “Where is your thermometer?”

“In the bathroom.” 

Yuuri grabbed all of the medicine and thermometer and called Yakov once he saw the 104 winking on the thermometer. 

“Yakov, hey, it’s Yuuri. I think Victor caught what I had but he has a fever and I don’t think he should stake today. I can be over there once I get Victor all situated but I’ll be a little late.”

“Don’t worry about Yuuri.”

He hung up the phone and picked through the dosages. Yuuri made Victor sit up, downing several pills with a swish of water. Yuuri draped a wet washcloth over his forehead and asked if he needed anything before he went to practice. 

“Just my phone and computer,” Victor groaned. Yuuri placed them next to him and came back a few minutes later with a bowl of Victor’s favorite cereal and a helping of eggs. 

“I didn’t know you were full service,” the humor a good sign that he was feeling well enough to tease.

Yuuri made himself some rice and eggs, which he sat and ate with Victor.

“Look, I’m going to go to practice. Don’t put on more clothes and don’t eat anything with dairy unless you want more snot. If you need me to get you something, call me.”

“Okay,” Victor grumbled, folding his arms. He felt uncomfortable to be taken care of and cared for, when a few days ago, it was the opposite. It was nice but  _ he felt like a burden, when he shouldn’t have gotten sick. _

Yuuri resoaked the washcloth and bid him farewell as he ran into the cold to the rink. Yakov yelled at him to get practicing, but Yurio asked how the old man was. 

“He was okay when I left, he’s just got a bad cold, that’s all.”

“It’s weird,” Yurio added. “He’s never gotten sick for the time I’ve known him. Hungover, but never sick.”

After a grueling practice, Yuuri got home and found that Victor ordered food in, took several naps, and was trying to watch an entire series in one day. 

“Yuuri! Welcome home!”

“Thanks,” Yuuri grumbled for falling onto the bed, his muscles sorer than usual and his feet pulsing in pain. 

“Aww, have a hard day at work?” Victor cooed, before catching a sneeze just in time. “Here, come here.”

Yuuri scooted up and Victor gave him a much-needed message. Yuuri’s shoulders were taunt, and the way Victor’s thumbs kneed the muscle helped relieve the tension. Yuuri moaned quietly in pleasure, unknowingly making Victor feel aroused. 

“Thank you Victor,” Yuuri spoke.

“No problem,” Victor squeaked, swallowing hard on his not-so-clean thoughts and sneezing into his elbow. 

After a little catching up and stretching, Victor kissed the baby hairs on the back of Yuuri’s neck, engulfing his face in a red blush. “All done,” he whispered seductively, sending Yuuri’s mind spinning as Victor got up and grabbed a cup, a swing in his hips. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyway, I’ll let your minds wonder to what happens later… 
> 
> Heads up, next week is going to be rough. 
> 
> ~ iijustoii


	4. Yuuri and Skating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: many a mental breakdown
> 
> Apologizing forthwith for the feelings going on this chapter...

A few days after, neither of them were having the greatest day. Yuuri must have accidently not charged his phone, because neither one woke up on time and were rudely awaken when Yurio yelled at Victor from the other side of the phone. They both left in a rush, but once they finally got there, they were almost an hour late. 

“Victor!” Yakov yelled, going off on him in Russian, to which Victor responded in an irritatingly uninterested tone. Apparently Yakov snapped with something even harsher than his tone, because Victor’s voice sunk an octave lower, something that even startled Yakov, the drop even making Yuuri flinch. He brushed him off, and left Victor fuming. 

“Victor? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said in a dismissive manner. “Let’s start practice.”

While Yuuri hadn’t understood a single word from their conversation, he could tell from his stiff shoulders and extremely tensed muscles that Yakov had struck a nerve, and Yuuri worried about this rare side of Victor (considering how he was usually so collected). Yurio explained how it was Yuuri’s fault, making his heart all the more ache and his emotions more taunt. 

The tension was visible in the air. Mila stayed away, and Yurio almost ran away after a lunch, and Georgi was just mimicking Victor’s distraught (which didn’t work well for anyone there). Yuuri was already an anxious mess but it was worse now that he was feeding off of all of Victor’s negative energy.

“Victor-”

He snapped something in Russian, and the confusion and hurt on Yuuri’s face flipped his anger to hurt. 

“I’m sorry,” Victor mutter in Japanese, sitting down and crumpling in sorrow, putting a hand over his eyes. Yuuri felt entirely uncomfortable and bewilderedly pained, but he couldn’t avoid the obvious anguish in his love’s posture.

“Victor, what did Yakov say to you this morning?” Yuuri asked hesitantly. 

Victor took a shaky breathe and pulled his hand, a tearful look on his face as he looked away. Yuuri’s heart painfully jolted in his chest at the sight.

“He said…” His voice broke down in one breathe and tears falling from his gray eyelashes. Yuuri made a gentle, reaffirming motion by taking his hand between his. 

“ _ I-I wouldn’t b-be able to have you-you and sk-skate _ .”

This was a first for everyone (second for Yuuri) to have Victor Nikiforov to break down crying, face scrunched up in hideous, hot tears that flowed down his face and into his lap. Yurio heard it, and was somewhat worried for the old man, but walked away to give them their space, realizing that he had been so worked up by something so important to him. 

Victor seized Yuuri and gave him a tight hug, wanted to desperately hold onto what he had with Yuuri.  _ The five time champion of the world, crying like a baby. Oh, how the mighty fall.  _ Yuuri returned the hug just as tightly, hoping to convey the false of strength that he had. 

“Hey, it’s going to be okay. I’m still here with you, and we’re still skating, right?” Yuuri’s words more impactful in his voice than his mind but still able to bestow confidence in Victor. 

_ But for how long? _

Victor nodded his head in acknowledgment, feeling a small sense of relief hearing that Yuuri was still by his side, despite how he knew it in his heart. Victor’s heart was bleeding still through his eyes, leaking the sadness he had held onto for too long.

_ But if I’m not losing Yuuri, than I must be losing my godly title. But you’re tired of being a god, mortals can only find love. Remember the void in your chest when you realized that the thing that cared for you was your dog?  _

All these worries came out in a flood of tears that flowed from his face onto Yuuri’s shoulder. Yuuri sat there quietly and patted his back, his warmth reminding Victor that there was a light at his tunnel. After a few minutes, all of his evil thoughts sealed away behind a tear-stained face. Victor finally separated, letting one last tear fall, and feeling Yuuri wipe it away with his thumb, a gesture that Victor felt was so alien but so immeasurably endearing. Victor looked up like an comforted but healing child, seeing the awkward figure of strength that glinted across his fiance’s face. 

Victor closed the distance with a kiss, reaching for something so deep that he had been lacking since he was a ignorant child. Yuuri, surprised but not disappointed, returned the rash affection. Victor pulled himself away shortly and got up quickly to pick up his stuff. Yuuri blinked a little, confused by Victor’s sudden movements and shocked and a tinge disappointed by the speed of their affection. He excused himself to go to the bathroom but turned back towards the rink.

He walked towards Yakov and he turned towards him, unsure what Yuuri wanted with him, but he understood when he pressed a button on his phone.

“Why did you tell Victor that he had to choose between skating and me?”

Yakov was surprised to hear Yuuri say something, even if it was through a translation app on his phone. 

“Vitya knows that I went through a divorce,” he explained in English, still impacted by how Yuuri decided to use the language most comfortable to him. “The main reason we separated was because we were too dedicated to our arts. I was just trying to warn him.”

Yuuri didn’t know what to say to this. His courage had gotten him this far, but his anxiety quieted his curiosity. He figured Victor must have taken it too personally, but then again, Victor usually doesn’t take much personally. 

“I’m sorry to hear about your divorce, I was just wondering. Thank you.”

Yakov nodded and left him, wondering what had made Victor’s fiance so bold as to confront him. Victor’s reaction was a little frightening to say the least, seeing as Victor had never been so unhinged in the years that he has known him, but also confident that Yuuri would be there for him. 

“Vitya,” Yakov called, watching a disgruntled Victor grumble over to him. Yakov held up his battered key, and spoke with a final dismissal of “don’t be late tomorrow.” Victor took in genuine surprise, but thanked him. The least he could do was lend him his key till tomorrow, and it wasn’t for Victor, it was for Yuuri. 

* * *

That night, Yuuri was sitting in bed at an ungodly hour,  _ unable to shake the sobbing from Victor on his shoulder. The exhaustion from keeping his emotions during his traumatizing comfort left him zapped of energy, not physically, but emotionally. His breathing felt lost to him, like he was two seconds away from calming himself, but still he couldn’t keep the pent up nerves in. Too many worries, fears, hypotheticals, unavoidable truths, undesirable feelings flooded his brain.  _

Yuuri quietly but frantically climbed out, changed in the bathroom, snatched his prepared skating gear, and jogged back to the darkened rink, faintly wondering how he could get someone to unlock it along the way but focusing on his steaming breathe and rhythm of his running. It was pitch black, and there were very few cars and bright street lamps and little to no people among the quiet falling of snow. Yuuri pulled at the door, unrelenting, and slide down, letting the days tensions slip away in cold, biting tears. 

After several minutes, the painful static still behind his retinas and buzzing harsh criticisms, Yuuri heard a car door slam, and looked up, finding in complete surprise Victor, standing in the snow, fully clothed with unkempt hair. 

“Victor!” Yuuri yelped, trying to quickly wipe away tears and snot, “How did you find me?”

“You’re skating stuff was gone again,” Victor there to pull him up.

“It doesn’t matter anyway. I can’t get in without a key.”

Victor hesitated before gingerly pulling out an old, golden key, the light glinting off of it rhythmically. 

Yuuri was stunned.

“Yakov gave it to me today. It’s his but he’s getting a spare tomorrow.”

Yuuri was in so much awe he didn’t know that he could take the key, examining if it was real. 

“How did know?” Yuuri questioned incredulously.

While Victor recounted his search in Yuuri’s life in Hasetsu, Yuuri attempted to hold onto Victor’s every word. 

Yuuri’s mind wandered away from his story. It must have been the disconnected focus, but he also recounted back to when Victor had walked into his life as his coach, demanding perfection and grace with a savage smile. What the couple had learned while being together that for them to be successful, not in at skating but in building their relationship, they needed to put their soul into what they wanted to achieve. At one point, it was gold at the Grand Prix. Now, it was acceptance with each other. They had jumped into their passion, and now they were grappling with each other’s feelings, quirks, ticks, even triggers. They both knew that it was a journey filled with turns, pitfalls, and landmines, but they were prepared to walk together because they knew that they meant the world to each other.

Yuuri turned around and unlocked the door, a sense of relief passing over him when the mechanism yielded. Yuuri turned around and gave him a kiss, shocking and meaningful for both of them. 

_ Thank you so much. You don’t know what this means for me _ .

Yuuri escaped into the rink, and once the door closed, the world behind fell away and the quiet lithe of the rink spoking to him more than when there were people milled around. Victor allowed him to pass through, the cold nipping at his minimum bare skin, but stepping into the shelter once Yuuri had disappeared from sight. 

Victor knew his outlet, his way of unloading and recharging, was through Yuuri’s love. For Yuuri to love, unhindered and wholesome, he needed to relieve his nerves through drawn out figure eights and diving into choreography. He felt horrible the first time he ran to the rink because Victor was trying to make Yuuri feel at home, and while he knew that he was failing him, he also felt a small victory seeing the elation on his love’s face when he handed him that key. 

After about an hour, Yuuri, unweighted and fatigued, turned off the lights and walked into the entrance, finding a patiently waiting Victor, who had taken a seat near the entrance. 

“Victor!? I thought you were back at home,” resetting Yuuri’s nerves. 

“Well, I decided to wait for you, being as it’s late and cold outside.” 

“Y-you didn’t have to,” Yuuri fretted, worried about keeping him there for so long. 

“I didn’t mind,” Victor lied, despite the fact that he almost fell asleep waiting for him. 

A brief moment of silence flew between them before Yuuri took Victor's hand in his. 

“Let’s get you home,” Yuuri finally spoke, walking back into the snowy darkness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yall, I love Yuuri and Victor’s relationship so much.  
> To get a little personal, I have both of what Victor and Yuuri have (canonically, Victor has/had depression and Yuuri has anxiety and depression), and while it’s a fictional relationship, it warms my navy blue heart seeing such a pure, heartfelt relationship (I say navy blue bc I sad and I still don’t feel, but I a wee bit romantic). 
> 
> And I’m sorry, breakdowns are not fun to read on any account, but it feels too damn important to not address. 
> 
> ~ iijustoii (official sad, anxious bean)
> 
> PPS: I ended this series not because I don't love it, but I can't really build a suitable end and because I'm kinda uninspired by it. I promise to make up for it with other Yuri on Ice content that I will publish.   
> Thank you and sorry for the abrupt ending.

**Author's Note:**

> So yep, this is the set up for a lot more, believe me. I can not tell you many times I had to relook over the scene with Victor in his apartment to describe it (and I took some creative liberties) but I hope you enjoyed it! :P
> 
> I'll probably post the next part next Saturday  
> Spoiler: it's only gonna get way more angsty from here
> 
> ~ iijustoii


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